


the righteous man and the shepherd

by haywoodyablowme



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Cussing, Multi, Pulp Fiction References, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:46:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haywoodyablowme/pseuds/haywoodyablowme
Summary: A few scenes from pulp fiction reimagined as gay and wolf 359, fun times,Tags will be updated as new scenes are added!





	the righteous man and the shepherd

“Y'know what the biggest difference is between Europe and here is?” Jacobi asks, a cigarette between his fingers and that hand dangling out the window of his car that Kepler's driving.

“What?” Kepler asks with mild intrigue and an eyebrow cocked.

“The little things- it's physically all the same stuff but the details are just off enough, like someone moved all your furniture an inch to the left and suddenly you're in Holland.” Jacobi flicks the ash off his cigarette and takes a long drag, forcing the smoke out of his nose, he grins a little as he catches Kepler let out a short chuckle. “Y'know in France you can go to a movie theater and order a drink? I don't mean a soda or somethin' I mean, a beer, I think I saw someone get a glass of wine- a glass.” He emphasizes and Kepler lowly whistles. “Same thing at McDonalds.” He takes another drag and holds the smoke for a moment.

“Sounds like my kind of country.” Kepler's grin doesn't feel forced- it's almost wistful as wind blows through his hair.

“You'd love it.” Jacobi's glance to Kepler is almost loving.

A moment passes in silence between the two of them and Jacobi flicks his cigarette into the street gutter and switches the radio to another station.

“Y'know what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese in France?” He asks, looking fully at Kepler.

“A quarter-pounder with cheese?” Kepler asks in that uniquely smartass way.

“A royale with cheese.” Jacobi seems almost reminiscent, maybe a little nostalgic.

“No shit,” Kepler grins, a warm feeling burning in the base of his chest. “What about,” he starts, taking a moment to admire his partner, “a Big Mac?” Jacobi thinks for a moment.

“Le Big Mac.” He doesn't accent the words at all. Kepler chuckles again.

“Le Big Mac.” Kepler repeats it in a thick accent and Jacobi rolls his eyes in playful way. “What about a Whopper?” Kepler asks a little excitedly.

“Dunno.” Jacobi hums. “Didn't go to Burger King.” His words hang in the air a moment and Kepler doesn't say anything to smooth over anything that might be amiss. “But,” Jacobi hums. “People in Holland don't put ketchup on their fries.” He starts, with only half of Kepler's interest. “They drown the stuff in mayonnaise.” He finishes as Kepler makes a convincing gagging sound. “I saw it man- they love it.”

The rest of the drive is smooth- it doesn't take long to reach the apartment building's parking lot. They step out of Daniel's car and he pops the trunk. Kepler wastes no time sliding a magazine into a handgun, Jacobi sighs a little too harshly.

“We shoulda brought shotguns.” He sighs heavily and Kepler slides his into his waistband. “How many are gonna be in there?”

“Three or four.” Kepler leans on the wall of the trunk. “Including the man we're here to see.”

There's apprehension in Jacobi's movements- he loads his gin and slides it into his waistband- then a second.

“We should've brought fuckin shotguns.” He huffs. Kepler moves his hands from the edge trunk and Jacobi closes the lid.

The pair walk from the parking lot up a concrete pathway with a perfectly manicured lawn surrounding it and the building. Jacobi's hands sit in his pockets and tilts his head up toward the sky, sighing deeply as he appreciates the feeling of the sun on his face. Warmth flowing through his veins and skin and for a second forgetting he's about to maybe kill someone. 

Kepler punches in a code on the keypad and looks back at Jacobi, soaking in the sun a few yards back. The warm feeling in his chest grows exponentially and he sighs almost dreamily. 

“So,” Kepler starts, “a little bird told me you're gonna be spending quality time with Miranda Pryce.” He tries not to sound jealous but the edge in his words is clear as day. Jacobi feels superior at the idea of having something Kepler does not.

“Yeah- doesn't mean anything.” He walks into the building as Kepler holds the door. “Cutter just told me to spend the evening with her while he's out, go out to dinner, y'know have fun.” 

Kepler rolls his eyes and huffs. He can't tell who he'd rather be in the equation- Jacobi, being close enough to brush elbows with Miranda and Cutter- or Miranda; going out for a fun evening with Jacobi. He follows Jacobi in and grins almost reflexively as he passes Jacobi, standing next to a flight of stairs trying to light a cigarette.

“You do know what happened to the last guy who took Miranda out- right?” Kepler asks and catches the faintest look of fear in Jacobi's eye.

“No?” Jacobi asks cooly, following Kepler up the stairs and taking a drag.

“Well,” Kepler starts, Jacobi can feel the smugness in his voice- he can't see his face but he knows how arrogant he looks, “his name, was Enlil.” He starts and Jacobi coughs when he realizes the key word. “He went out for a lovely evening with Ms. Pryce,” he's speaking so slowly, and Jacobi's close on his heels. “It was fine- until he gave her a massage.” Kepler purrs and Jacobi stops dead in his tracks.

“What's wrong with a massage?” He asks, coy and clearly confused. “I give people massages all the time.” He says it quite plainly and Kepler sighs.

“You wouldn't massage someone you didn't feel something about- it's the intention behind it.” Kepler punctuates the statement quite clearly and looks back at Jacobi. Jacobi shakes his head.

“I could be a masseuse.” He says it so matter of fact. “It doesn't mean anything.” Jacobi shrugs.

“Give me a massage later if it doesn't mean anything.” Kepler challenges. Jacobi ignores him.

“What happened to Enlil?” He asks almost pointedly. Kepler takes a long moment to pause and starts the trek up the second flight of stairs.

“Oh,” Kepler starts, “Marcus...threw him out, of a window.” He lilts on the words and Jacobi stumbles going up the stairs. “Now he speaks with a stutter,” he hums, “and flinches when you get too close.” He sounds so nonchalant and Jacobi can't tell if he's anxious or if the cigarette gave him cotton mouth. 

“Bullshit.” Jacobi hums, snubbing his cigarette in an ashtray near someone's door.

“Guess you'll just have to find out.” Kepler hums with a sly smirk, holding his gun with a cool confidence and knocking on the door.

Jacobi can feel the shudder running through his body but he doesn't let it overpower him. He holds his gun with a gentle grip and flanks Kepler.


End file.
